


Survival of the Stealthiest

by Desbelleschoses



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Squabbling, Teambuilding, Unconventional Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desbelleschoses/pseuds/Desbelleschoses
Summary: The annual East v. North training exercise takes an interesting turn when General Grumman calls the shots. Forests, paintball guns, and competitive spirits are just the beginning. Rated T for swearing. Team Mustang-centric, mostly platonic.





	1. Chapter 1

The widely-famed and infamous East v. North training exercises were due to begin in two days. Naturally, the competitive spirit was roaring throughout Eastern Command, each soldier boasting about his or her skills. It didn't matter that the East frequently lost; the exercises were usually held in the North, and those unaccustomed to the frozen terrain were at a serious disadvantage. This time, the East would be fighting on its own turf. So that the affair was a little more balanced, it had been announced that the event would take place in the dense, remote forest that lay roughly forty miles from the command center.

General Grumman had announced these details with his trademark smile, which he would undoubtedly wear as he watched the progress of the competition from the comfort of his office. To his surprise, no one seemed angered at the theme that had been chosen; the soldiers will be broken into small groups and will participate in a guerilla warfare scenario. They will use special guns which shot out balls of paint rather than rubber bullets. These would be both easier to track and less painful than the alternative. If struck in one of five marked, crucial areas, the soldier would need to lift his weapon in the air and walk to the edge of the forest in defeat. He then was to step over the vibrant tape which marked the edge of the simulated combat zone. His "death" would be reported to one of the officers tasked with scorekeeping.

Colonel Roy Mustang was thrilled. His carefully selected team was perfect for such a scenario. His tech ops genius, his strategist, his black ops agent, his information source, and his sniper were so well suited to the task that it almost seemed a bit unfair. Almost. More importantly, he had a good chance to put General Olivier Mira Armstrong in her place for once. After many frustrating years of struggling to use his alchemy in the snow, he felt that she had come to underestimate him. This year, he would prove her wrong. Crushing her soldiers was just an added bonus.

"All right, listen up!" He boomed, standing up from his desk. Each of his soldiers snapped into a salute before him. "Fuery, you're going to be our scout. Anything is fair game as long as it fits in the packs they give us. Round up bugs, radios, whatever you think will be useful. Falman, you're my go-to. Knowledge about plants, water sources, weather signs, we need anything you can get in your head. We have to survive out there. Who knows how long this thing will last, and rations only go so far."

As the two lowest-ranking officers hurried out of the office to perform their tasks, Roy's eyes settled on his final three subordinates. "Breda, you're my strategist. I need everything on guerrilla warfare that you've got. If we're going to make it through the entire exercise, we have to be the best-informed group. Havoc, your experience in black-ops is crucial. I need you to be versatile. I may need you in a tree with a rifle, and the next second on the ground with a pistol. Keep hidden, keep quiet, and don't let anyone get by us. The same goes for you, Hawkeye. Just do what you do best."

"Yes, sir!" the three lieutenants chorused.

"Good. Now go grab your packs from the requisitions office. All five of you are to take tomorrow to pack your bag. Remember, the essentials come first. Sleeping bag strapped on, first aid kits stowed away… you all know the drill" he assumed.

"Um, sir?" Fuery interjected, stopping his search for equipment in his desk drawers. "I don't own a sleeping bag."

"Don't worry about it, kid." Havoc gave him a slap on the back. "You can get everything you need from requisitions. They're gonna be handing that crap out like candy. Old man Grumman wants this win so bad it's scary."


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't like this." Riza stated bluntly as she tested the weight of her paint-equipped pistol in her hand. "Everything's top-heavy."

It was 0500 hours, and, as Havoc so eloquently put it, "way too early for this shit." Riza hated having to leave her actual guns at home – what if a real attack was posed against the colonel? – but she had to abide by the regulations of the exercise. She was allowed her holsters, at least, even if they didn't quite fit the children's toys she had been given.

"Ah, come on, Ree. It's not that bad." Havoc encouraged around his lit cigarette as he loaded the paint capsules into his scoped rifle. "So the balance is a little wonky. That's not gonna hurt anybody." To prove his point, he lifted the rifle to his shoulder and aimed it at a tree. Riza was the only one to observe the slight twitch in his elbow and the almost invisible wavering of the barrel. When sniping, missing the target by a single degree could be fatal. She knew that Havoc was aware of this, and that he was also aware that she could see these slight imperfections.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Roy pulling on his gloves. Without turning to look at him, she asked, "Colonel, you are aware that you can't use alchemy during the exercise, aren't you? Only the paints and whatever we think to do with them are permitted."

Roy tugged his left glove on the rest of the way while giving a shrug. "Sure, I can't use it in battle, but there's no reason I can't have them. You know, just in case."

Just as Riza was thinking that traumatized minds think alike, a gunshot rang through the air. She pulled on her pack before grabbing her "weapons." Roy moved to the head of the group and signaled for them to begin moving. Even though they needed to set up camp, everyone was fair game as soon as the shot was heard. Riza fell into step behind Roy, as usual. Havoc was taking up the rear, making sure that the inexperienced members of the team didn't fumble during their trek. None of them said it, but the war-hardened of the group were much more likely to make it all the way through the exercise if they didn't stick together.

They moved silently through the brush. Every once in a while Roy would signal a stop, lifting his hand in the air. On one such occasion, they halted to a series of rapid gunfire from their back left.

"Son of a bitch!" a voice rang out. Fuery recognized the speaker as Private Thompson, who was under General Grumman's staff.

"My God, no wonder you always lose!" cackled a second voice, followed by more gunfire. "You Easterners can't even take some paint!"

Roy looked back at his group, shaking his head. They were not to interfere. This was followed by a swift movement of his hand, indicating that they were to continue moving. The altercation was far enough behind them that they could sneak through undetected.

It seemed that almost every other group had immediately taken to trying to cut the enemy down. Rarely a minute passed without hearing another voice, Eastern or Northern, signaling defeat. Fortunately for Roy, all of his subordinates were too smart to opt for such a tactic. Even so, they spent a good portion of their day frozen in place, remaining undetected in the rampage. As it was, the sun was well in the Western part of the sky before Roy found a place suitable for their camp.

"Fuery, Breda. Grab the knives from your packs and start harvesting brush. We need to build it up in such a way that it hides us without being obvious. Falman, I leave that to you." Roy commanded. He then turned to Riza and Havoc. "I want both of you in the trees. You're our eyes. If anyone gets too close, pick them off. But don't give away our cover; let them go if they aren't close enough to discover us."

"And what will you do, sir?" Riza asked, not because she thought he was going to laze about. It was important for her to know where he was, just in case.

"I'm going to build us a shelter and gather some firewood. We need to make use of all the time we have." With that, Roy began to dig through his own pack.

Riza grabbed the canteen off of hers and turned to Havoc. "I'll take this post. Move a bit to the East, and we should be able to cover the entire area."

"Got it." Havoc slung his rifle over his shoulder and set out, searching for a tree with a comfortable position from which he could shoot.

Riza did the same, and soon found a tree with branches low enough for her to grab. She jumped, holding tight to the branch. She pulled herself up and secured her footing before moving higher up in the tree. Once she found her place, she broke off a few of the smaller branches to give her a better vantage point. For the most part, the shooting spree had died down. That meant that the other groups were probably doing the same thing that they were. All the same, it wouldn't do to let her guard down. She lifted her rifle, scanning the area with her scope. _All quiet on the Western front_ , she thought to herself. A knot in the tree hit her back uncomfortably, but she paid it no mind. So long as it wasn't burning sand, she could endure almost anything. Now, she had to wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Dusk settled beyond the trees, bathing the sky in a hazy grey. Riza shifted in her post, most of her body aching from maintaining her balance. All day, she had watched the team build their shelter. They were now hidden, and the forest was used to their advantage. It was not yet dark or cold enough to start a fire, and there was no real need for one; everyone had ample supplies of food and water, for the time being. After giving the forest one last scan, Riza slung her rifle across her back and stretched forward, extending her body across the tree limb, lengthening her spine. With the faint popping of her joints came relief. Even though she was capable of remaining still for extended periods of time, the body could never be trained to remain stationary without some sort of stiffness.

She felt the tree waver underneath her, but she did not break her stretch. The weight which counterbalanced her own was familiar, and the scent of tobacco indicated that her assumption was correct. Havoc hoisted himself into the branch next to hers, making himself comfortable before pulling out his lighter and a cigarette. He took a deep draw before lazily exhailing smoke among the leaves.

"Mustang wants us to keep watch. He doesn't put it past Briggs not to launch an attack during the night. We've had sightings of both Miles and Buccaneer, and he doubts that they are part of the same group. If Armstrong has anything to do with it, she probably placed them with her best men." Havoc reported, looking over at Riza as she straightened up.

"I'm guessing he wants one of us up high and one of the others down below?" Riza raised her arms above her head, linking her fingers before bending her arms down behind her back. Her shoulders have a satisfying pop.

"Yep." Havoc confirmed. "The chief's got first shift, so if you wanna go first, I've got no problem with that."

Riza knew that he was trying to be helpful. She was aware that he suspected something deeper between her and Roy, but he never asked. She doubted he knew how appreciative she was of that fact. Without his saying so, he was trying to give them some time together, even if it was a bit of sleep during the second shift. As nice as that might be, and as tempted as she was to take that offer, she knew it was illogical to do so. She reached over and plucked the cigarette out of Havoc's mouth. Raising it to her own lips, she inhaled before flicking the ashes off the end of the burning stick.

"Thief," Havoc accused, taking the cigarette back from between Riza's fingers.

Riza gave one of her rarely-seen smiles. It was too easy to bother him at times. "Thanks for the offer, Jean. I think I would feel better if I took the second shift, though. I can't keep watch the entire night, and he's more vulnerable asleep than awake and on watch."

"True. It'd take an army to wake him up when he's out of it." Havoc chuckled, moving his cigarette to the side of his mouth furthest away from Riza. Both sharpshooter knew that they, unlike the others, would be taking two shifts each that night, and, most likely, every night after. The 2/4 split of the group made sense, combat-wise, but they would have to run on almost half the sleep the others got. That is, if they weren't allowed some extra sleep come morning. It was this train of thought that prompted Havoc to ask, "Do you think you can convince Mustang to hold off on our morning wake-up call?"

Riza's face turned pensive, and Havoc didn't doubt that she was thinking of how to convince him. They really were blind to one another, at times. Havoc knew that, if she asked for anything, Mustang would do everything in his power to make it happen for her. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky. He smirked at that thought, silently laughing to himself. He wouldn't want that type of prefferential treatment, for more reasons than one. If course, both Mustang and Hawkeye were oblivious to any bias in their decisions when it came to the other. It was simply natural, so much so that it weirded him out at times. He didn't know exactly what humans were made of, but he was sure that both of them had a splash of the same, unique ingredient.

"I'll ask," Riza decided. "We need to be in our best shape, especially if we have to do this every night. Sleep deprivation does nothing for my aim."

Havoc chuckled, even though she wasn't joking. "Go get some sleep, Ree. And don't stay up with Mustang." He felt Riza's hand make sharp contact with his head as she gave one last stretch, far too pointed to have been unintentional.

"Goodnight, Jean."

"Night, Ree. I'll come get you in a few hours." Havoc waited until she was headed for the shelter before giving a quiet laugh. He took a drag from his cigarette, thinking to himself, _sometimes it's just too easy._


	4. Chapter 4

Roy looked up at the sky and held his hand out, drops of rain pooling in his palm. "Great," he muttered to himself. Even though he was not permitted to use his flame alchemy, he still wasn't pleased with the weather. Rain meant mud, noise, and decreased visibility; all of which would impede any attack that they could have struck. He had a choice to make. They could either continue to secure their perimiter, or they could attempt a move outward in search of the enemy.

Before he could make a decision, shots rang out from high in the trees. Both Havoc and Riza loaded and reloaded their chambers, shooting in a synchronized pattern. Roy motioned for the others to follow him. Pistol out, he snuck through the trees until he saw paint-splattered coats of white. No matter the rain, the vibrancy of the color left no doubt that they had been hit in at least one of their vital areas.

"What the hell?!" roared one soldier as he scanned the trees.

"Snipers," another voice said flatly. Roy inched forward ever so slightly so that he could see the speaker. As he suspected, the Ishvalan did not remove his sunglasses despite the rain.

"Your orders, Major Miles?" a third voice asked, belonging to, as far as Roy could tell, a second lieutenant.

"If there are snipers, there are others. Stick to cover. Don't let yourselves be surprised-" Miles broke off upon hearing a sharp crack. Fuery's eyes were wide and his face pale as he stood on the stick he had broken. Miles drew his pistol in a flash and fired into the trees.

Fuery doubled over, clutching his side. The pellet hit him right on his rib cage. Although not a vital area, the proximity of bone to skin was enough to make his eyes water. Biting back a swear, he forced himself upright. Unfortunately, the sound of the pellet's impact didn't escape the Briggs commander. Miles made a series of rapid hand gestures, and his soldiers fell into formation.

One soldier drew his rifle and began returning fire into the tree tops. His companion stood guard, pistol raised to combat any threat on the ground. Two more advanced toward Mustang's group, aware that enemies were lurking in that hiding place. Miles began to make a wide circle with the intention of a sneak attack from the rear.

Roy motioned for Breda to go with Fuery in one direction and for Falman to follow him in another. The Briggs soldiers were still unaware of their number, and this remained to Mustang's advantage. Just as they began to move, a shot came down from above, striking the rifleman in the shoulder. The Briggs man returned fire, noting that he made his mark when the tree rustled. He began a session of rapid fire into that location, shooting blindly due to lack of visibility through the branches. At that moment, a pellet flew down from the second perch, shooting the rifleman's companion square in his left pectoral. The man raised his gun in the air and began to make his way out of the woods, cursing under his breath as he went.

It was during this distraction that Breda and Fuery abandoned their cover and shot at the advancing soldiers. Even though they weren't the prized marksmen of the group, they certainly weren't terrible shots. Fuery made a dive behind a tree to avoid being shot, which he then peeked around as he began to return fire. Breda stood his ground, defying his enemies. Soon both Briggs soldiers were defeated, leaving both Breda and Fuery in the game, albeit with some new, angry welts.

Roy made use of a piece of chalk and a box of pellets the night before. His alchemised creation was gripped in his hand, and he wore an evil smile upon his lips. He pulled the pin out of his makeshift grenade and lobbed it towards the rifleman, who was focusing his attention toward the second tree due to the ceasefire from the first. As soon as the pseudo-grenade hit the ground, it exploded, coating everything in a three foot radius in bright blue paint. The man swore loudly and attempted to wipe the paint off of his face with his blue-coated hands. Realizing that his task was sisyphean in nature, the soldier stripped off his coat and settled for cleaning his face on his shirt.

Mustang spent a moment too long admiring his handiwork. A shot sounded directly behind him, and as he whipped around, He came face-to-face with Miles. He watched as the major moved his pistol from the ready position to above his head, a deep frown on his lips. Paint spread down his side from the pellet's place of impact, underneath his left armpit. Not three meters away stood a very disheveled Riza, who was heavily favoring her right leg. She lowered her pistol as Miles began to walk away.

"Next year, Mustang," the Ishvalan swore in a flat voice. He guided his paint-covered comrade away from the battleground, going the way that the others had departed.

"Are you alright?" Roy asked concernedly as he moved toward Riza. She looked the worst for wear out of all of them.

"No," Riza said sharply as she tried to shift her weight to a less painful position. "I was shot in the kneecap and lost my balance. I hit several branches on my way down, and then I had to get myself the rest of the way toward the ground."

Roy knew that her tone was coming from a place of frustration with herself. She was blaming herself for her injuries and probably thinking of how she was now a burden to the group. Silently, he wrapped her arm around his shoulders and placed a hand on her waist. Without any prompting, Havoc stepped forward and did the same on her opposite side.

"C'mon, Ree," Havoc promoted as they began their trek back to camp. "We'll get you patched up and give you a stiff drink. That'll fix you right up."

His only response was an angered huff. If she was taking this harsh exterior with both him and Roy, something was definitley up. The two men made eye contact behind Riza's back, silently agreeing to let the matter drop for the time being.

Fuery, Falman, and Breda were bringing up the rear. Fuery had pulled his shirt up to expose his ribcage and the firey red welt on his chest. He gave a sharp bias as his fingers pressed against it.

"Leave it alone, dumbass," Breda scolded, giving Fuery's hand a slap.

"But it hurts," Fuery complained as he looked forlornly at his injury.

"So don't touch it," Breda retorted with a tone of finality.

The group of six stumbled forward into their camp, which was damp from the rain. Havoc and Roy gently lowered Riza into a log, where she sat with her injured leg stretched out. Upon letting go of her, Havoc looked surprisedly at his hand. "Ree, you're bleeding." He began to walk around the log to examine her injury.

Riza jerked around quickly enough to jostle her knee, making her boss through clenched teeth. "I scratched myself on a branch when I fell. I'm fine, Jean."

"We should still disinfect it and bandage you up. It's a little more than a scrape, and you know it." Havoc insisted. At that moment he found Roy standing directly in his way.

"I'll take care of it," Roy said, his voice not leaving room for debate.

Havoc either didn't hear the warning or chose to ignore it. "I'm the only one who didn't get shot. It makes more sense for me to help her while everyone else patches themselves up."

"I said I will take care of it, Lieutenant." By pulling rank on Havoc, Roy had turned his warning into a direct command. Havoc looked at him challengingly, on the verge of defying his superior officer.

Deciding that insubordination wasn't worth the repricussions, Havoc narrowed his eyes. "Yes, sir," he said bitterly before walking off.

"I could have handled it," Riza pointed out, frustrated that Roy solved the problem in such a manner. Roy opened his mouth to speak, but Riza cut him off, bitterness seeping into her voice. "I get it. Trust me, I get it," and as soon as the harshness appeared, it was gone. "But Jean is a friend. A close friend, and you know that."

"Yeah, and sometimes he gets a little too close for my tastes."

"We've talked about this a thousand times, and I am not having that discussion right now. Not here. My point is that you could have handled it much better than you did. This wasn't just about my back, and you know it."

"Maybe not, but I solved the problem nonetheless."

Riza reached up to massage her temples, trying not to let this disagreement turn into a fight. Roy's jealousy could be taxing, especially when it came to her make friends. Even though he was working to improve it, there was something about Jean that seemed to erase all his progress. Even though their friendship was completely platonic, there was some reason that Roy saw him as a viable threat.

"Fine," she said. It was against her nature to end discussions in such a stereotypical, evasive manner, but this wasn't a topic that could be sorted through in their present location or company. They were far away enough not to be heard, but too close if things started to get out of hand.

Roy helped her back up, holding her steady as he did before. His other hand held the first-aid kit from his pack. "Let's get you patched up," he said in a gentler tone as he led her away from the campsite in search of a more private location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the bit of angst here. Jealous!Roy just goes so well with what is going on and what will happen. Both Riza and Roy are upset for very different reasons, but it was necessary. I don't think the angst will be gone until after the next chapter, because it has to stick around for some character development. All of my stories take place in the same universe, and so far this is the earliest dated story of the bunch.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! As I warned in the last chapter, this one is also going to be a bit angsty, but all for the sake of character development. Also, I want to post a warning that the language in this chapter is stronger than usual.

It took a few flicks of his lighter to get his cigarette lit; deep breath in, deep breath out. If Havoc believed one thing in this world it was that a cigarette could cure almost anything. Despite the temporary relief the tobacco brought him, he couldn't shake off what had just happened. "Tell me you guys saw that," he said incredulously, watching Roy and Riza bicker from a distance.

"Yeah, what was that all about?" Fuery asked as he removed the wet compress from his ribs.

"Mustang flipped his shit on me when I tried to help Hawkeye. He acted like I was going to murder her or something."

"Dude, you know how he gets." Breda placed some more fuel on their campfire in an attempt to keep it alive. "He can be one jealous son of a bitch."

"You've got to be kidding me. Ree and I are friends and that's it. Everybody knows that. Hell, I even let them do whatever it is that do and I don't say a damned word!" Havoc pulled at his hair frustratedly.

"Easy, man. It's not like he's gonna forbid you from seeing one another," Breda pointed out.

"I wouldn't put it past him at this point," Havoc scoffed, festering in his negative energy. If left on his own, he would have gotten over the incident in about half an hour.

He would have, had Falman not spoken up.

"That type of behavior is something that occurs in abusive relationships. It's an isolation tactic." The pause he took to switch from his tone of recitation to his normal speaking voice was just a second too long for Havoc. "But it's not like Mustang falls into that category. You're probably upset about nothing."

Breda and Fuery looked at Havoc with astonishment. Havoc took a long draw from his cigarette, but no tobacco in the world could help him now. In a calm voice more terrifying than any other he had ever used, he stated, "I'll kill him. I swear to God, if he is using his rank or anything else against her in that way, I'll kill him."

"We all would," Breda agreed, "but that isn't the case here. I mean, if you just look at them you can see that-" His voice trailed off as he realized that his commanding officers were no longer in the camp. "The point is, Havoc, you are getting worked up over nothing."

"Maybe," Havoc relented, "but if he has a problem with me I want him to say it to my face." He stomped out his cigarette underneath his boot before walking off in the direction he assumed Mustang took.

Fuery groaned and put his head in his hands. "Oh, there is no way this is going to end well..."

***

Riza inhaled sharply as Roy continued to clean the gash on her back with antiseptic. "It's deeper than I thought," she surmised, holding her shirt to her chest in what was almost a self-comforting manner.

"You hit that branch pretty hard. You're going to have a nasty bruise." Roy's fingers trailed the angry, red skin on her back, letting his fingers linger over the burn scar which disrupted the spread.

"I'm more worried about my knee," Riza admitted, leaning forward to massage it carefully. This movement caused the band of her sports bra to move slightly, abraiding the bruised skin on her back. "Damn!" She swore, remaining still. If she sat back up, it was possible that she would have the same result. Sniping from towers and dilapidated buildings was something she could do, but trees were more trouble than they were worth. She held this opinion since her academy days, and today had done nothing to change her mind.

"Easy," Roy soothed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let me go grab some gauze for your cut, then we'll get you a cold compress." As he unrolled the gauze, his eyes remained fixated on the material. After taking a breath in, he said "I'm sorry for earlier."

"I know. I just wish you weren't so cold toward him. He's a good friend, and you know how long it takes me to build a trusting relationship." _I don't want him to leave, too,_ her eyes spoke despite her best efforts.

Her gaze hit Roy with a deep thrust, bringing up feelings of guilt and anger all at once. He had left her before, and during his absence, her father betrayed her devotion and her trust. He left her once again when he was shipped out to Ishval as she remained, alone as she had ever felt. He knew the pain her memories caused her on certain nights, when her nightmares took her to places that her mind would rather forget. In her own defense, she put a wall up around herself. The lucky few to get in had a friend for life, but their betrayal would destroy her.

"I'll talk to him," Roy promised as he adhered the gauze to her back with tape. "All done," he stated as he began to gather up the medical supplies and return them to the case.

"There you are! If you have a problem with me, Mustang, I want you to say it to my face!" Havoc's voice challenged from behind them. Roy's head shot up so fast that it made his eyes hurt, and he nearly dropped the bottle of antiseptic. Riza quickly turned to face Havoc as she hastily pulled her shirt on.

Apparently, she had been a few seconds too late. In what seemed like a fraction of a second, Havoc was in front of Roy, holding the fabric of his superior's shirt in both his fists. "You goddamned son of a bitch!" he roared, violently shaking Roy to punctuate his words. "You think this shit's funny?! Using her as a notebook and target practice?!"

"Jean, stop!" Riza commanded as she gingerly lifted herself to her feet, ignoring the pain in her knee.

"She's not your fucking property! You branded her like some kind of animal! I-"

Roy's fist made contact with Havoc's jaw with enough force to loosen his grip. Roy jerked himself away. "Calm down, Lieutenant!"

"I'll tell you what you can do with your "calm down" bullshit! Why don't you take it and shove it up your-"

"Jean, stop it!" Riza had placed herself between him and Roy. She placed her hands on his chest, fighting against him as he struggled to get to Roy. "It wasn't him! It wasn't him." She dropped her hands once Havoc stopped trying to push through her.

"Don't defend him, Ree. I know you might not see it, but he has no right-"

"No, Jean, listen to me. And I mean really listen to me. You're making assumptions without having all the facts. You don't know the whole story."

"Then someone damned well better tell me."

Riza turned to look at Roy, who was fuming at the accusations thrown at him. "Go," she said in a calm voice that left no room for debate. "I'll talk to him. You need to go cool off."

Roy didn't protest, choosing instead to pick up his med kit and walk back the way he came. Riza knew she would have some reparations to make when she came back. She turned to Havoc and took a seat on the log once more. She pat the spot beside her as she said "Sit with me for a while, Jean. It's a long story."

***

Havoc sat with his head in his hands, his fingers knotted in his hair. "God, I'm such an ass."

Riza reached over to rub his upper back with her hand. "But you were an ass for the right reasons. You were worried about my safety, and you have no idea how much that means to me. Roy is the only other person to have fought for me like that. If I really was in danger, I would appreciate that kind of reaction. There was no way you could have known the whole story; Roy is the only one, aside from me, to know about it, and, even then, there are some details that even he doesn't know." She knew that, one day, she would need to open up to Roy about the extent of her suffering if she was going to heal; however, that day wasn't going to come any time soon.

"You can trust me," Havoc assured her.

"I know I can," Riza responded with a small smile. When Havoc offered her his hand, she took it, allowing him to help her to her feet. She placed her arm around his shoulders as he put a hand on her waist, more gently than before. As they began to head back to camp, Riza looked up at him. "Jean, I need you to know that I'm fine. It happened years ago. I have bad days like anyone else, but my father has been dead for a long time."

Havoc nodded, although he wasn't entirely convinced. "And now you have me to talk to. You know, if Roy is ever being an ass."

Riza gave a light chuckle. "I guess I do."

As they walked back into camp, Havoc helped Riza lower herself to sit beside Roy. Wordlessly, he stood back up and have Roy a clap on the shoulder before walking over to Breda. Nothing more needed to be said.


	6. Chapter 6

"Alright, men, listen up. It's time for us to launch an assault. Our location has already been compromised and we can't hold a defensive position any longer." Roy paced back and forth in front of his team, clearly thinking as he spoke. Whether he was coming up with a battle strategy or making his speech up on the fly was anyone's guess.

"Sir, we've been patrolling ever since Major Miles discovered us this morning," Riza objected. While she normally followed his every command, she knew a bad idea when he said one. "It's nightfall, and none of us are fit for combat."

"Exactly!" Roy exclaimed with the glint in his eye that marked one of his more eccentric schemes. "Neither is the enemy. We attack while they are asleep; we'll have the clear advantage."

Fuery let out an imperceptible sigh. There would be no changing the colonel's mind now. He risked a glance at Lieutenant Hawkeye, but she had the same look in her eyes as he had in his own. They were going to have to do what the colonel said, preferably without objection, lest they make his mania worse. They all knew the drill by this point: ride it out and keep your head low, and clean up when the storm had passed.

Riza knew all too well what he was like in a war; she tucked those memories far away, where she could scarcely touch them. At this moment, Roy was drunk with competition, a far cry from his survival instinct. After his reconciliation with Havoc, the team was whole once more, and he was almost giddy at the fact. It was in these moments that she needed to remain on high alert. Relenting, she asked "What are your orders, sir?"

"There's a Briggs camp not far from where we are. They've been moving about, sleeping without shelter." Roy picked up a stick and began to draw in the dirt. "We'll wait until midnight and surround them. At first, we'll have the element of surprise; but, as soon as we fire, we'll be out in the open. Make your first shots count. Anything less, and we'll be walking off the field." Roy tossed his stick to the side and looked at his team. "This is the largest group of Briggs men left standing, which isn't saying much. If we take them down, everyone else will be easy targets. Now load up and get ready to move out. It'll take time to get into position."

***  
Breda and Havoc veered far to the left, making sure to stay out of the lighted range of the enemy's campfire. Get in, attack, get out; those were their orders. Havoc paused, crouched behind a tree. He made a series of hand signals at Breda, who was told to advance slowly. The redheaded man did as he was ordered, maintaining a low profile . Havoc watched, waiting for the signal Breda should give for the all-clear. Stifling a yawn, he took a brief moment to rub his eyes. When he opened them again, Breda had disappeared. Before Havoc had time to process this development, a loud thud sounded several feet in front of him. Abandoning his position, he rushed toward the noise.

Breda lay supine at the bottom of a pit, resting among several balls of paint, popped and unpopped. He let out a groan as he picked himself up and swore to himself when he saw his clothing covered in a rainbow of colors. He looked up out of his squalor to see Havoc peering down at him, the lieutenant's tall stature making the distance look larger than it was. Breda threw his arms in the air before bringing them down in a gesture of defeat.

Havoc leaned forward, offering Breda his hand. His comrade may be down, but he wasn't going to leave him stranded until someone came back for him. As Breda clasped his hand, a boot made contact with Havoc's lower back. He tumbled forward, bringing Breda back down with him. Their attacker was gone as quickly as the wind, but not before they saw a flash of white.

***

Fuery was on high alert. His sixth sense has been screaming at him ever since the colonel gave them their plan of attack. Sure, he was a worrier, but there was a large difference between his anxiety and his gut feelings. Whatever he felt at the moment was definitely the latter. He looked over his shoulder to tell Falman exactly that. He froze in place, his mouth open, about to speak, but no words came out. There was no sign of the Warrant Officer or where he could have gone. A cold shiver ran down Fuery's spine. The nearby gunfire caused him to jump, and, against his better judgement, he began to run.

He looked back over his shoulder to make sure that he wasn't being chased, and he heaved a sign of relief when he saw that he was in the clear. Too preoccupied with what might have been behind him, he failed to notice what was coming rapidly toward him. His foot caught on uneven ground, and he went tumbling forward, right into Havoc and Breda.

"Geroff!" Havoc growled in annoyance, pushing Fuery off of him. "Great. Just great. The chief wants us in position and we're stuck in this _fucking hole!"_

"Quiet! You're going to blow our cover!" Fuery scolded as he picked himself up off the ground.

"What cover?!" Havoc shouted. "We're trapped! We have no cover! Besides, we're all dead anyway." He huffed. His mind turned quickly as he searched for the proper words or swears to accurately describe their situation.

"What happened to Falman?" Breda asked, surprising his superior with this obvious question he hadn't thought to ask.

"I don't know," Fuery admitted. "One second he was behind me, and the next, he was gone. I think he was taken and shot."

"Where the hell is the chief?" Havoc demanded in frustration. They were the ones staging the ambush, dammit, not these Northern jerks!

***

Riza could have sworn that she heard Havoc shouting. It was faint, a brief noise which reached her ears in such a way that she was probably imagining it. Havoc can take care of himself, she thought decisively. She needed to focus on her immediate surroundings. As usual, she was behind and to the left of Roy, watching over his shoulder while simultaneously listening for any sounds from behind. A sniper must be aware of their surroundings at so times; anything less could mean death.

Fortunately for her, Roy had decided to be a little more serious at the moment. If nothing else, he was paying attention to where he was going and what he was doing. Part of her had feared a reversion to his more spirited ambitions, ones which he had, for the most part, left in his youth. Gone were the days of his more impulsive actions, much to her relief. Guarding his back would be much harder if he still tried to show off at every turn.

Roy froze suddenly in his tracks, and Riza instinctively raised her pistol. Her ears searched for any sound, any indication that they weren't alone. Without conscious thought, she spun around on her heel and fired into the forest. She waited long enough to hear the distinct sound of the paint popping on her target before firing twice more.

Following suit, Roy began to open fire, aware that their cover had been blown. He knew better than to think Riza would fire without reason, but he remained frustrated that their plan had been anticipated so easily. Both soldiers began to move as one, feet and bodies turning so that the other remained defended. It was a dance they knew well, one they secretly wished they never had to learn.

The barrage drove back their attackers, gaining them the distance they had lost. This reprieve did not last for long. Whereas Major Miles led his men with stealth, Captain Buccaneer was a bull in a china shop, so to speak. The bear of a man rushed forward out of the trees, automail arm raised for attack. His arm was never the same each time they saw him, and somehow one of his northern mechanics engineered an arm that, remarkably, fit regulation for the exercise. The automatic nature of the gun attached to his arm was almost fantastical in nature, surely something dreamed up without thinking if it were a reasonable or ethical thing to make, let alone to equip to a man.

Buccaneer stood threateningly in front of Roy, towering over him while wearing a mocking grin. In a matter of moments, they were surrounded by Briggs soldiers on all sides. Every rifle was pointed at them, but neither Roy nor Riza moved. "Looks like you're out of the game," Buccaneer sneered, thoroughly pleased with himself.

Riza knew what Roy was about to do. She silently begged him not to, vainly hoping that he might hear her thoughts. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

In a voice full of vanity and confidence, Roy retorted, "We'll see about that."


	7. Chapter 7

Vato Falman sat on one of the provided benches, wiping his skin with a wet cloth. Even though he had raised his gun in the air after being cornered by two Briggs soldiers, they still decided to use him as a canvas. Indignant at the fact, he began to return fire until all three of them had no more ammo. He was satisfied with himself, even if he hadn't made a single 'kill.' He twisted the cloth to make it smaller and attempted to clear his right ear of the blue paint that had filled it inside, which was now drying. The shower he planned on taking that night would be a rainbow of color; he was sure of that.

General Grumman had given him a curious look when he went to report his defeat, and the wide from that spread across the general's face said volumes. Oh yes, he was enjoying this farce far too much for anyone's comfort. Even though the East was losing by a large margin, he was positively giddy. At times, Falman didn't know if the man was senile or sadistic.

The sun was rising over the horizon. Soft, purple light ceded to pink, and the edge of the forest became visible. Not a single member of his team had come out yet, which he took as a good sign. Maybe they succeeded, after all. His eyes focused on a solitary figure which emerged from the tree line, recognizing it immediately because of its stature, posture, and gait. He rose to his feet and met Kain Fuery half way. The young man was completely covered in paint; his hair was caked through and sticking out at off angles, his glasses hung from his breast pocket, smeared from his attempts to clean them. Fuery saw the figure approaching, but it wasn't until he was within teen feet of the object that he recognized who it was.

"Falman! Oh, thank God. I have been wandering that forest for hours! I finally made my way out."

Falman passed the young soldier the cloth he had been using to clean up. Fuery took it eagerly and wiped off his glasses. "Where is everyone?" Falman asked, looking back at the trees.

"Well, I was stuck in a pit with Lieutenants Havoc and Breda. They hoisted me up so I could help them out from above, but Lieutenant Havoc was swearing and saying some pretty violent things because he was stuck and I made the situation worse... so I ran."

"You ran?" Fuery nodded in response. "You do realize that is the last thing you should have done?"

"I was hoping to find the rest of you before he found me. You know, for you to tell him to stop being crazy. Because I don't think he's gone that long without a cigarette in his life, and I am honestly terrified of what he might do to me."

"You want Lieutenant Hawkeye to stop him."

"She's the only one he listens to! And it's not even the gun!"

"You can hope all you want, but there _is_ a chance Havoc will find you first."

Fuery hung his head in defeat. "I know..."

_"That son of a bitch cheated! I shot him just as many times as he shot me, but noooo, he tells me he shot first! This is unacceptable, Lieutenant! How are we supposed to have a training exercise when these northern soldiers don't participate by the rules?!"_

Fuery and Falman exchanged a glance as their commanding officer thrust his way through several branches, fighting his way out of the woods and swearing all the while. Colonel Mustang was coated from head to toe in paint from every angle, but the red in his cheeks and ears was still visible, even from a distance.

"There is no way that weapon was legal! And to shoot me from point blank - I should sue him for assault!" Roy shouted at the forest.

Lieutenant Hawkeye trudged her way down the path through the woods, emerging five feet away from the colonel's self-made exit. Unlike her companion, she was relatively clean. The only paint was on her left side, between her collarbone and the top of her breast, right in a vital area. "No, sir, you shouldn't," she responded wearily. "He only attacked you like that because you shouted that you weren't going down without a fight and fired all of your ammunition at him. Any court would rule you the instigator."

"But-"

"For the last time, sir, if you had backed down when you were shot, this wouldn't have happened. You did this to yourself, and you should know by now not to goad Captain Buccaneer. I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have any sympathy for you in this case."

"Traitor..."

Riza left him fuming to himself and walked over to her comrades. She took the cloth from Fuery and deftly wiped away the splotch of paint on his forehead which Falman had been trying to direct him to clean. "Don't say anything to him about the plan not working. Give him until after the weekend before you start the jokes. I know I can't stop them, God knows I've tried, but at least do that," she murmured, keeping her voice low.

"Yes, maam," Fuery and Falman responded in unison, without saluting, lest they tip off their commanding officer.

Riza turned around and searched for Roy, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Where did he-"

A bout of uncontrollable laughter burst from her grandfather's tent, interrupted by a cough here and there. Riza winced visibly, knowing that this wasn't going to help matters. She wished she had thought ahead and reported their status herself to avoid this mess. At this rate, he would be inconsolable for at least twenty-four hours. She sighed, resigning herself to her fate. Upon turning back to the others, she asked "Where are Lieutenants Havoc and Breda?"

"They're trapped in a pit, ma'am." Falmans tone was, as usual, very matter of fact.

Riza took in a slow, deep breath and let it out. "I think it would be best of everyone left for their homes now. Get a shower, put ice on your welts, and sleep in your beds. Be in the office Monday morning, and let's pretend like this never happened."

"Will you be okay by yourself, ma'am?" Fuery peered around her to look at the general's tent, from which laughter still rang. "I don't think Lieutenants Havoc and Breda will be any better than the colonel..."

"I will be fine. Speaking of them, did anyone go back to help them?"

"No ma'am. Once a soldier leaves the field, he isn't allowed back until the exercise is over." Falman was stating the truth, conveniently playing it to Fuery's advantage. "There are still three teams left, so, unless they get out themselves, we can't do anything to help them."

"Right. Dismissed. I need to drive the colonel home and give him a cup of tea and a sedative." Riza wished that she was joking. With that, she turned and walked to her grandfather's tent. Upon entering, she could sense Roy's negative energy. He had finally gone silent, but that was almost worse. She approached him and placed a hand on his arm. "Colonel, it's time for us to leave."

"No, I-"

"Come on, sir." Her fingers wrapped around his arm, and she began to pull him with her. He made little resistance, which was a good sign. If he was this compliant already, he should only be complaining once he had some food in him. With some sleep, perhaps complaining would even turn into dramatic body language.

As for the Lieutenants, she would bring the car back for them when her phone rang. One sore loser was enough to deal with at a time.


End file.
